Foster's Home for Constructicon Friends
by the Tormentor
Summary: Found by Frankie, the Constructicons have no means to get back to Megatron or to the Decepticon forces. So, what better way to spend their days MIA than at Foster's? Join Scrapper and Co. as they embrace their new imaginative home, all complete with wacky adventures with a side of love! Hawhaw! Maybe...
1. Six

**Yes. I failed completely on the last story with Foster's and the Stunticons. Drag Strip and Mac as a buddy thing? No way. But the Stunticons will show up in the final parts of the story. Now, instead of Stunticons, we have CONSTRUCTICONS. This story will be blended with both IDW and G1.**

**Peace out, and enjoy.**

* * *

Key:  
-**Bond talk**-

/_Radio comms/_

* * *

Foster's Home for Constructicon Friends

By the Tormentor

The gleaming old tower struck high into the sky, it's orange and black hues giving the faint sense of a smaller being more intimidated and awed in it's glory. It had stood here for many years, overcoming debt, harsh winters and the craziest of schemes. Loaded and packed with rooms, hallways and other things that would make others go insane, it provided many others comfort.

This place is Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

Inside the house, only two humans lived. One, of old age, was the original owner and builder of this house; Madame Foster. She was a ripe old woman who loved each and every single being of the house with vigor. The other, her granddaughter; Frances 'Frankie' Foster, the caretaker of the house and many others have developed secret crushes on her.

Almost every day, Frankie was tasked with the many chores assigned to her by Mr. Herriman, the head of management and finances for the house. Though it was an independent business, Foster's relies on donations to keep it alive.

Mr. Herriman, however, had other things planned for today than managing stocks and currency.

"_Miss Frances! Miss Frances! _Your presence is required in the foyer immediately!" His voice boomed into the internal vocal chambers of the old voicetubes that spider-webbed the house from the inside. Deciding that she heard his voice at 7:32 AM, on this early March morning, he sat back down to finish up his report.

Several minutes later, the redhead that he called down earlier entered the foyer with her usual green attire, with the blue skirt and the Powerpuff Girls t-shirt under it. Her mood was not as colorful as her clothing, the normal scowl on her face and the angry fire in those emerald eyes told him that she was not pleased at all.

"This had better be good, Mr. H. ..." She growled.

"It is for you, for today would be a moderately small amount of chores to be done." His voice never broke the nearly monotonous tone that he loved so much when addressing a situation. To be superior, you must talk and act superior.

"Great," She mumbled, "How many, a dozen, at least?" Her hands balled into fists.

"Only two today, Miss Frances." Her eyes bulged at the impossibly low amount of chores that she would be receiving today, and instantly her mood changed from morbid to exuberant in less than a second. A smile grew from ear-to-ear and she jumped into the air.

"YES! What are they, Mr. H?" She eagerly asked. Mr. Herriman liked her enthusiasm.

"Ah, very well. A-hem, Master Blooregard has-"

"What? What did he do this time? Did he clog the toilets with cheese again? I swear, that little spore is really-"

"Miss Frances, please." Mr. Herriman interrupted. "He did nothing wrong as of this minute. He just wants to go to a certain gamestore, erm, GameStamp? GameStomp?" He pondered.

"Gamestop?" Frankie deadpanned.

"Thank you, Miss Frances. Next on our list is to take out the trash. And that is it." He began to write his report again.

"No prob, Mr. H. Consider them done." Frankie stepped out of the foyer with a massive grin on her face, and she whooped loudly.

"YES! HAHA!" She ran towards the back door to get her trash chore done, so merrily that someone normal might have mistaken it for the young woman to be happy for something much bigger than winning the lottery. As she closed the door however, her mood changed instantly again when a Whizbee smacked the back of her head.

"OW!" The looked behind her to see four figures in the backyard, all whom were currently playing with the whizbee.

The first one she saw was Eduardo, a large being with massive fangs, threatening horns and a ominous skull belt. Underneath all that monster's external features lied a big softie, one who was terrified of all but the smallest of creatures. Ed is fluent in Spanish, and somewhat blends it in with his English when he's talking. Nest to him was Wilt, a tall lanky fellow who was probably the most selfless friend in the house. Covered in red fur, a prominent number 1 resided on his chest. Sadly, an accident took the use of his left eye and arm, though it's no trouble to him.

There was also Coco, a freakishly bizarre hybrid of a tree, a plane and a bird. She never spoke in grammatically correct sentences, always saying her name like some sort of videogame monster. Finally, we have Bloo, a friend of incredibly simple design but not of his personality. He's stubborn as a mule, lazier than a sloth and more whiny than a hyena. But somewhere in him there is good.

"Sorry Frankie!" Wilt cried out, obviously the one who threw the whizbee at Frankie.

"It's okay Wilt." She said. Frankie picked up the Whizbee and chucked it at Eduardo, who caught it with ease.

"Hey Bloo, you wanted to go to Gamestop?" She asked, and Bloo ran to her at the speed of a racecar.

"You bet I do! They're having a discount off of _Skyrim_! Now only $45!" He screeched with excitement.

"Yeah yeah, calm down. I'll take you _after _my chores, okay?"

"Okay!" He ran back to his friends to complete his game.

Frankie trotted over towards the trash cans, eager to get these simple chores over with. As she opened the lid to the first can, however, something caught her eye. She was standing on what seemed like a footprint. It was rectangular in shape, and rather large, about a foot in length. Wilt had big feet, that's for sure, but he didn't have _rectangle_ feet.

She dismissed it as some sort of item that was left out here, but as she turned around, yet another thing looked out of place. There on the ground was a set of thick tire-tracks, probably belonging to some sort of off-road vehicle to Frankie's eyes. It had seemed to veer around the garage, make a right turn and into the forest.

Frankie thought nothing of it until she opened up the third can, and the trash inside was torn open outside of the bag. Filth of all masses coated the inside, and Frankie's nice day dipped into annoyance.

"UGH!" She groaned loudly, and kicked the trash can into the third, which tipped over with more torn-out trash. Frankie gaped, and turned her attention onto the tracks in the dirt, and followed. After all, it was odd that tire tracks were near a vandal scene. After going past the garage, the trail began to lead into the forest trail.

Frankie walked and walked, and yet still the tracks continued. Frankie stopped when she heard the slight yell of a voice in the distance. She took a meter in front and the voice became voices, and she realized there was a bush in front of her, most likely where the voices originated. Frankie smiled at herself.

_Never hurts to look, right?_

* * *

If it's one thing Bonecrusher hated, it was guard duty. How Scavenger managed to please himself with his time doing absolutely nothing was beyond him. He just wanted to shoot something, but _of course_ he took a magma pistol. He might as well have brought a flare gun that says; HEY AUTOBOTS! CONSTRUCTICONS RIGHT HERE! Primus, sometimes he could be pretty delirious sometimes.

/_Scrapper, can I come back soon? I wanna see how the thingies going./_

_/For the last slagging time Bonecrusher, stop calling it a thingy! And no, Long Haul's shift begins in only 12 more minutes./_

_/I'm so bored!/_

_/Boo hoo. Scrapper out./_

Bonecrusher snarled, angered at his eldest for being such a pompous twit. And yet again he was bored.

* * *

Frankie tip-toed to over where the tracks ended and voices originated. Every step, there seemed to be a different voice coming from behind the shrub. As she walked, she failed to notice that there was a small twig placed underneath her feet.

_Crack!_

"Eep!" She squeaked, and covered her mouth and stood still as if a gorgon had turned her to stone. A few seconds passed, and the voices continued without a brief stop. Frankie sighed with relief. As she walked over to the bush, the new sounds of power tools also echoed from the area beyond the bush.

Frankie's finger slid open a small window through the bush, and she saw...

* * *

'_One, two, three, four-dammit!' _The rocks that Bonecrusher was juggling, a trick he picked up from Swindle, pelted the ground again as his hands were too slow to catch it continuously. His pistol laid on the boulder that he sat on earlier.

As he knelt down to pick up his rocks, the sound of a twig snapping cut through the air and Bonecrusher dived for his pistol. He pointed it in the direction of the sound, his optics on par with his sights.

Deciding that he spent enough time waiting, Bonecrusher slowly began to walk over to the sound, and maneuvered through the trees and shrubs to find out what caused the snap of a twig.

And there, standing totally oblivious to him being there, was...

* * *

_Robots. Green and purple robots._

Frankie couldn't believe her eyes. There were five of them, each doing something to a small donut-shaped machine. Nearly all had a mouthplate on and red visors, but little things, like smokestacks and treads set them apart. However, on each of their chests was a purple horned symbol. One of them reached for a power tool that resembled a drill, and began to work on a panel until said panel snapped in two and the robot cursed.

"SLAGGIT!" His voice, somewhat cultured and noble, was something that caught Frankie totally off-guard. He threw the power tool into the ground and walked away.

"This is utterly pointless, Scrapper. The trash that was taken from that eyesore can't even make a decent shield, let alone a space-bridge!" The green robot said. And so it was confirmed, these were the ones who wrecked the trash-cans. The other robot, supposedly Scrapper, had a red visor and a chrome mouthplate.

"I know, Hook. But we can't just waltz around borrowing suitable materials for the space-bridge."

"Well, I say this is all Bombshell's fault. He didn't check the mass displacement drive in the first hand when Scavenger asked him too." Another one, red visor and small mouthplate, had a smokestack on his right shoulder and thick tires on his arms.

"Quit your griping, Long Haul. Even if we could get the materials, the Autobots would be on us like a petro-rabbit with a energon bit."

Frankie gaped. So these things, whatever they were, were building something from the trash that they stole from the house. Even though there was five of them, three; Hook, Scrapper and Long Haul, looked as though they were construction workers. But odder enough was the fact that the Long Haul robot had wheels on his arms. But why didn't they at least ask? Surely they must be some group of identical lost imaginary friends-

Frankie suddenly felt the cold hard tip of something press against the back of her head.

"_Don't move, human scum."_

* * *

Bonecrusher pressed the tip of his magma pistol against the back of the human redhead's skull, easily getting the drop on her.

"_Don't move, human scum._" He growled, and pressed his weapon harder into her head.

"Please," She begged, "I-I don't mean any harm. I was just curious-"

Bonecrusher pushed her through the bushes and into the construction area where his friends were making the cheap space-bridge. His optics never left the human as he walked through, and everyone looked at his new prisoner.

"Bonecrusher, who is that?" Long Haul asked.

"Go on human, introduce yourself." Bonecrusher said, shoving her towards the front of the space bridge.

"M-My name's F-F...Francis Foster." She sputtered like a gas-exhausted motorboat. Hook rolled his optics at the human.

"How quaint." He said, and re-began to work on the space-bridge.

"Tell us, human, why are you here?" Frankie focused on a green bot with two cylinders above his head, a purple and chrome mixer on his back and was the only one who actually had a set of eyes. His voice, slightly nasal with a tinge of a part-time sadist, disturbed the caretaker to no end. He leaned in close to her, his hand rubbing his chin as if he were investigating a crime scene instead of talking to a human.

"Back off, Mixmaster." Scrapper ordered, and Frankie was grateful she didn't have his eyes piercing her head.

"I w-was looking for the pe-person who wrecked our trash cans... and there were t-tire tracks..." She mumbled again.

"Good going, Long Haul. We sent you out to find supplies, not trash and some carbon monkey." Hook snarled at his green comrade. Long Haul snorted.

"Well, it's not _my fault _that we're stuck here. Blame Bombshell for that!"

Whatever went through Frankie's mind, she would probably never remember. Nor would she actually regret it, for in her heart, body and soul she felt something for these six beings. They were stuck. Lost. Confused. Trying desperately to get back home to a master who probably wanted them gone for good. And so, she asked;

"You can stay at Foster's."

"Oh _puh-leeze._" Hook puffed, "Like we wanna stay at that eyesore."

"Actually Hook, she could provide us with a temporary means of communication." Scrapper said.

"And beds." Scavenger added.

"And a forward base." Bonecrusher stated.

"And something to do." Long Haul griped.

"And maybe a new place for some experiments." Mixmaster continued.

"OKAY FINE!" He yelled, silencing his brothers. He turned his attention back to Frankie.

"We'll stay. But only until we don't need you anymore." Frankie felt anger rise at Hook's snobbishness, but was quick to stop it.

"Alright, follow me." As she turned around to walk back, the _chk-chk-chrk-chk _of a transformation sequence occurred right behind her. She turned around in shock, not to see six robots but six vehicles; a front-loader, a bulldozer, a crane, a cement mixer, a power shovel and a dump truck.

"How'd you do that?" She asked.

"Do what?" The dump truck asked her.

"Change forms."

"Oh, we could always do that." The cement mixer answered, and transformed back into Mixmaster.

"See?"

"Wow. That's pretty cool. I bet you guys were loved by your master." She grinned, somewhat jealous that they could change forms. Hook, though his face not visible, growled at the redhead.

"He still does."


	2. New Friends

Chapter 2: New Friends

As Frankie walked back to Foster's, the Constructicons in tow, they began to tell her how they got here, because it would be confusing for her to keep calling them imaginary when they already existed.

Scrapper began telling her about Cybertron, their homeworld, and how it was ravaged by years of civil war. The two sides, the Autobots and Decepticons, fight for the same purpose; energon, the life-blood of their race. Their only differences relied on how they got their energon. Scrapper said that they were Decepticons, a subgroup called Constructicons, and got their energy by using various means, by harvesting energy from a volcano or processing raw minerals.

Hook said they got here by messing up (Although Long Haul persists that it wasn't their fault) a mass displacement drive, which allows Decepticons to shrink down anything they please. They were going through a space-bridge (Frankie didn't know what that was, but didn't care) and the displacement drive _and _the space bridge both malfunctioned, throwing them into a random area on the Earth and much smaller than normal.

"How big were you guys?" She asked, somewhat curious about them being shrunk down from original size.

"Were were about ten meters or so high in your calculations." Hook answered.

Frankie gaped. _Thirty feet tall?_ These guys were HUGE! Or at least they were until now.

"How are you gonna get back to-what's the place called again?"

"The _Nemesis_. It's a starship that crashed here several million years ago. At least in your time span." Hook replied again.

Frankie chuckled. "Wow, you guys are pretty old."

"We ain't dead yet. And don't plan on being dead for a long time. Unless you throw in some Dinobots..." Scavenger mumbled, getting off course within his own sentence.

An idea suddenly popped into her head, for the six robots behind her looked so similar to a Disney movie she saw when she was a small kid. What was it called again...?

"High-ho, high-ho, off to work we go..." She sang.

"Oh, for the love of Primus don't sing that blasted song." Mixmaster whined, startling Frankie from her nostalgic moment. "Skywarp recorded that on the _Nemesis _loudspeakers for a full decacycle. I still have nightmares about being red-nosed dwarfs."

"Ah, Skywarp." Bonecrusher sighed. "Remember the time when Motormaster got so mad at him he punched his jaw off? I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard."

"Was that the time when Skywarp colored him red and blue like Optimus Prime?" Scavenger asked.

"Yep."

"OH!" Long Haul yelped. "Remember when Frenzy replaced Blast Off's thrusters with confetti launchers? He fell like a slaggin' rock. Priceless."

"You mean the one that nearly killed him? Yeah, I remember. He also punted the little twerp like a human football." Bonecrusher snickered.

"It's good to see you six have some sort of bond." Frankie said, confusing the eldest Constructicon.

"What do you mean?" Scrapper asked. Humans, from his perspective, should have a family or one that has taken authority over. Scrapper couldn't imagine being alone in the world, let alone the entire universe. He saw humans work alone, but he knew that they had to have some sort of family.

"My family is really small. I mean, it's just me and my grandmother living at Foster's. My parents..." Frankie couldn't bring herself to discuss that topic with friends she just met.

Speaking of friends, as she exited the forest she found both Wilt and Bloo arguing loudly. Ed and Coco had taken themselves to sit out of the argument and watch. In his good hand, Wilt held the Whizbee in his good hand, and a rare moment that barely anyone saw, Wilt looked enraged. Bloo had a small smirk on, usually the one he had on when he was annoying the living crap out of someone.

"Stay here." She told the Constructicons, and she began to run over to the quickly heating discussion.

"_Does it look like I'm laughing?_" Wilt yelled, and Bloo sniggered.

"Probably went over your head." He sneered, and Wilt's red fur went to a dark crimson in fury, his teeth grinding against each other like stones. Before he could do anything rash or murderous, Frankie stepped in to quell the fight.

"Hey hey hey, stop this." She said, pushing aside the two friends from each other. "Alright, what happened?"

"_-Bloo was making fun of Wilt's height with jokes.-_" Coco answered, and Frankie went wide-eyed.

"WHAT?! BLOO!" She roared, and picked up the blob from his hiding place behind her leg.

"Aw, just when it was getting good." Said a rather gruff voice from behind the shrubs. Whereas Frankie knew who it was, the four friends looked at the bush with a mix of confusion and fear. Was someone watching them as they argued?

"Alright you guys, you can come out now." Frankie called to the bush, and six green and purple robots stepped out. The one in front had a shiny mouthplate and a deep red visor, along with wheels on his shoulders. The others behind him had treads, smokestacks, drums and other things that belonged in a construction site.

"Guys, these are the Constructicons." Frankie began. "This is Scrapper, their leader and eldest." The motioned the one directly to her left as Scrapper gave a small wave.

"Hello." He said, his raspy voice earning odd looks. Frankie went back on track to issue the others.

"Here are the others; this is Bonecrusher, Long Haul, Mixmaster, Scavenger, and Hook." Hook gave a small grunt for being the last to be called out, but ignored it.

"Wow." Bloo gasped, walking up to the five Constructicons in utter amazement. "You guys are so cool!"

"They'll be staying at Foster's for a while, so be nice." She warned Bloo, and the latter smiled back innocently. She motioned for Scrapper to follow her, since as being the oldest he was the one who worked out their group. Mr. Herriman would have no problem with Scrapper.

* * *

And what was Mr. Herriman doing? Doing what he did for most of his time; working in the foyer and handing out chores for the friends at Fosters to complete. It was a very tight-nit schedule, and what Mr. Herriman despised most of all was laziness. Being a couch potato would not get you anywhere in life.

"Mr. H?" A voice called out, and as he turned up from his desk he realized it was Frankie.

"Ah, Miss Frances. I take it you have completed your chores?" He asked, his poss manner serving him well.

"Yeah about that..." She said as she walked in, but turned around and called;

"C'mon, you can come in now." And so what walked in was a robot, vividly green and purple. A chrome mouthplate and a crimson visor on his face was also there. The colored bot was taller than Frankie, shown as he walked over to his desk and sat down in front of Mr. Herriman, who wasn't actually surprised at this newcomer.

"Greetings. I am Mr. Herriman, head of finances and adoption here at Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. And you are?" He asked, leaning slightly as his ears poked upwards in anticipation.

"I am Scrapper." The green and purple robot, Scrapper, answered. "I am the leader of the Constructicon team, six of us in total. I'm here to represent."

"And you are here for?"

"A temporary stay for me and my teammates. I assure you we will not provide any trouble, Mr. Herriman."

"I hope you don't. Now," Mr. Herriman opened a file from his desk drawer and pulled out a slip. "Sign here for you and your friends, and your 'temporary stay' will be allowed." Scrapper reached over and grabbed the fountain pen on the rabbit's desk and wrote down him and his team's names. As Scrapper finished and Herriman nabbed the paper from the Constructicon, he just noticed how Scrapper wrote; Chinese-looking symbols, about four dozen or so squished above and below the lines.

"What is this?" He showed Scrapper the drawings. "Is this some sort of thing you do?"

"No, actually. It's my kind's dominant language; Proxa." Scrapper answered.

"Please write in English." Herriman groaned and handed Scrapper another document.

"Mr. H, can we talk?" Frankie asked. Mr. Herriman got up from his seat and followed Frankie out of the foyer, leaving Scrapper alone. As soon as he closed the door, Frankie put her hand on his shoulder.

"Miss Frances, is there something wrong with Master Scrapper?" He asked, her worried face setting all kinds of wrong signals.

"Mr. H, he's-he's _not _imaginary." Frankie whispered, and Mr. Herriman scoffed.

"Please, Miss Frances. Master Scrapper is most certainly imaginary. I mean, you just don't see a two-meter-high robot walking around like they're citizens, right? He was probably imagined by a genuine child with a bright imagination with a penchant for science fiction." He said, his point being made across. But the extremely serious look on Frankie's face made him wonder if she was telling the truth.

"Scrapper's an alien." Frankie said, and Herriman's curiosity with the green and purple robot inside of his office rocketed.

"Is he now? Did he tell you that?" He asked, obviously not amused and laced with heavy sarcasm.

"He showed me." Frankie argued, folding her arms across her chest.

Unconvinced, Mr. Herriman reopened the door back into his office, Frankie following the stubborn head of finances. Mr. Herriman saw Scrapper fiddling with something on his chest, but didn't pay any attention to it as he sat down back down on his desk.

But as soon as he saw what Scrapper was actually doing, Herriman's belief of Scrapper being imaginary was changed.

Scrapper, paying no mind at all to the two beings watching him, was currently twisting a loose knob inside of his open chest, which revealed to have billions of tiny blue lights inside and one giant glowing blue orb wrapped in a light grey shell on the underside. The sphere pulsed like a heart, and the lights inside flickered on and off as he squeezed the knob tight, and his chest closed.

Scrapper looked up and let out a startled yelp.

"Tell me when you're back instead of giving me a spark-attack? Yeesh." Scrapper growled, annoyed at Frankie and Mr. Herriman. Herriman quietly sat down, his thoughts deep in revelation at the sight of Scrapper's insides.

"Congratulations, Scrapper! You are now eligible to stay at Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends for your temporary time here." The rabbit said, and Scrapper and Frankie walked out, the former at bit more relieved and the latter confused.

"What were you doing on your chest?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just had a knick inside of my hydraulics." He answered, and Frankie chuckled.

"You heard what me and Herriman were talking about, weren't you?" She questioned humorously.

"You guys whisper like Brawl being sneaky." Scrapper dead-panned. Though Frankie didn't know who 'Brawl' was, she could imagine him being quite the loudmouth, like an alien Bloo.

"Oh, I forgot, time to show your room."

"I should get my team, then?"

* * *

Once Frankie and Scrapper stepped out of the foyer and into the huge backyard, it has seemed that the lack of Scrapper had easily bored the Constructicons into doing more mischievousness and stupidity. Though Scrapper would know that his team would more likely build something than go an a genocidal rampage, this time they really showed that even the most mature of Decepticons could be childish.

Lying in a gigantic mound of rubber cement was Coco, Wilt and Eduardo, their bodies buried and sticking out in random directions. Coco was chirping uncontrollably with colorful plastic eggs firing out of her like a machine gun. Ed looked pretty annoyed with the fact that we fooled quite easily and Wilt was trying desperately to get out with no avail, his hands slipping and sliding over the cement.

Scrapper only had to look a degree to see who glued the three to the ground. There, rolling in their own laughter, was Bloo, Long Haul and Mixmaster. Bloo and Long Haul were laughing so hard that Scrapper could see the coolant coming out of his teammate's visor, and Bloo was hiccuping from all the laughter. Mixmaster was chuckling as he admired his 'work'.

Hook stood away from his chuckling teammates, his hand covering his face in embarrassment. Bonecrusher and Scavenger had confused looks, as though they were debating whether to help the poor friends or laugh at them.

"Ahem?" Scrapper coughed, and immediately the two chuckling Constructicons went from their giddy time to dreading their actions. Long Haul stood erect as he tried to regain some dignity and Mixmaster pouted. Bloo kept on laughing.

"BLOO!" Frankie cried out, and the little blue blob ran for the front of the house in sheer terror.

"Oh no you don't!" She roared and gave chase, the redhead barely keeping up with Bloo's shuffling.

Scrapper gave cold looks to his fellow dump truck and mixer, who had their optics focused at the ground.

"You two are behaving like a pair of over-energized sparklings. These people offer us a temporary home and you two dolts glue them to the slagging ground. Now get them out while I decide a good punishment." Scrapper pointed at Ed, Wilt and Coco.

Long Haul and Mixmaster scampered over to the three trapped friends and immediately began to break them free. Mixmaster's mixer spun several times, and a white liquid shot out of the cones above his head and onto the cement. Said cement turned into a black soup and dissolved, saving the friends from further immobile torment. Long Haul pulled Ed out first, then Wilt (who ran inside to take a long shower) and the incredibly angry Coco.

The discombobulated imaginary friend glared at the green dump truck for a good minute before raising one of her legs up to her face and sticking out two toes. She turned the foot around and pointed it at Long Haul's visor. He got the message.

_I'm watching you._

Without looking away from Long Haul, Coco slowly backed towards the house, her eyes locked onto the Constructicon. Said Constructicon did nothing but stare thunderstruck with a severe case of creepiness. As Coco neared the door she opened it with her feet, still looking at Long Haul, and closed the door very slowly, and her eyelids squinted in sync with the door. She finally close it, and Long Haul was left to wonder what the hell was that all about.

"Good." Scrapper said, somewhat proud that his teammates did a command without whining.

"Now, about your punishment." Scrapper began, and Long Haul and Mixmaster cringed.

"You'll both be helping Francis with her chores for a solid week." He finished. Long Haul and Mixmaster, expecting something much worse, gave a sigh of relief.

"That's not so bad." Long Haul commented, rather happy that doing chores was his only punishment for briefly incapacitating three friends.

"Yeah," Mixmaster added, "What's the worse that could happen?"

* * *

"This is the worst thing that could happen." Mixmaster grumbled, and Long Haul groaned in agreement.

"Frankie, could we-"

"No."

"C'mon, could we do something else besides-"

"No."

"But-"

"No means no, you two. Now let's get in there."

Mixmaster, Frankie and Long Haul currently stood in front of a room that was received to many a complaint to Mr. Herriman about the smell. Said smell was so putrid that some friends moved out of their rooms and into new ones. The ones that stayed either had the inability to smell or were just lucky enough not to get caught in the path.

Said room was a bathroom. Frankie was currently wearing a gas-mask and thick rubber gloves from the reports, and the two Constructicons were probably used to bad smells.

"No Frankie." Long Haul said, and crossed his arms.

"LONG HAUL." Frankie screamed between clenched teeth, "You. Are. Going. In. There."

"You know what that big red 'X' is on the door?" Long Haul pointed towards a massive drawn X, which reached from corner to corner on the bathroom door. "That's the universal sign for; 'Stay the hell away.' It doesn't mean to rush in there with several pounds of cleaning detergent!"

"Raise your hand if you think this chore just went downhill." Mixmaster said, which earned glares from the dump truck and the redhead.

"Alright, on the count of three, we rush in there as fast as we can and get that crap either down the toilet or out the window." She commanded, but Long Haul asked;

"Can't we just stuff it down Mixmaster's drum?" This caused Mixmaster to yell "HEY!" and Frankie to cross her arms.

"Long Haul, from what I've heard, that stuff might kill him."

"Worth the option." He finished.

Frankie sucked in her breath, her heart pounding from the adrenaline of rushing into what was probably going to be the worst clean-up of her life. At least she had backup. Long Haul sighed in defeat, and Mixmaster positioned himself like a track runner.

"3 ..." Frankie started.

"2 ..."

"1 ..."

"**GO!**" She screamed, and all three bashed down the door with their combined might. The sound of cleaning detergent could be heard from inside, as well as a gruff gagging from a Constructicon.

"Oh ... sweet Primus above ..." Long Haul gagged, and Frankie wasn't faring so well either.

"I ... I think I just stepped on something ..." She said, and a loud _squelch _erupted under Mixmaster's foot. With pristine horror, he said only one thing;

"Don't look down."

Above them, Mixmaster could see the green stagnant air that had suffered to be trapped inside of this horror show. He cringed, and his optics followed to where it originated; the second stall. Slowly, all three of them waddled towards the stall's door. None of them had the bearings to open it to reveal the evil that resided within. Finally, after a tense mental showdown, Long Haul opened the door.

As soon as what laid in front of their eyes was revealed, each had a different reaction.

Frankie threw up behind her gas mask and ran out to clean herself of vomit and the image of that ungodly disgusting object in the toilet.

Long Haul screamed as his optics burned at the sight of such a utterly nasty thing, and ran out vowing to gain revenge on the one who had quite possibly the worst case of dysentery in the galaxy.

Mixmaster fired several rounds of the most powerful acids he had into the bowl, disintegrating the thing inside, the toilet itself and ran out to join the others in evacuating the most horrible bathroom in existence.

Needless to say, life at Fosters began with a bang.


	3. For Science!

Chapter 3: For Science!

"Alright, Hook! Easy, easy... little to the left..."

"Relax, Frankie. I know what I'm doing. I am an artist."

"Artist my afterburner."

"Bonecrusher, you're so slow you don't need an afterburner."

"Bite me."

"I'd rather not..."

In the main lobby of Foster's, three beings; Hook, Frankie and Bonecrusher were currently repairing a completely busted and broken chandelier, courtesy of Bloo figuring out that Long Haul and Mixmaster were experts at physics and chemistry, plus with Scavenger's shovel he made an excellent catapult. Too bad that Bloo forgot that making something indoors means it's a limited environment.

In other words, a screaming airborne Bloo smashed head first into the chandelier. Scrapper sent his three comrades to their room for debriefing, leaving the bulldozer, crane and redhead to clean up Bloo's mess.

On Hook's, well, _hook_ dangled a bright chrome and copper chandelier made from the Constructicon craftier himself. Frankie was guiding him to position the new brilliant piece of decoration while Bonecrusher supervised. Frankie instantly loved the item, but Bonecrusher knew that Hook didn't even try to make it and the humans were astounded.

Standing beside the three workers was Mr. Herriman, Bloo and Madame Foster, who for some reason had taken a serious liking to Hook and his incredible artistic skills. Mr. Herriman currently had Bloo's stubby arm in on of his glove-wrapped hands and wasn't eager to let go.

"My my, that is one pretty piece of art you have there, Hook!" The old woman called out.

"That chandelier is so pretty, wouldn't you say Herriman?"

"Indeed Madam." Herriman was indeed impressed with Hook's artistic skills. The Constructicon seemed to know just how to manufacture and create a beautiful mix and coagulation of pristine metals and alloys.

The handle to the front two doors opened, and coming inside were two children. One of them only ten and the other twelve. The ten year old, Mac, was a bright kid and the creator of Bloo himself. He had his usual attire on; tan khakis, a woolen fleece under a red shirt and a green backpack. The other child was Goo (Named after her first words; Goo Goo Gaga) an abnormally hyperactive child with a runamuck imagination that spawned an endless army of imaginary friends.

"_HIIIIIIIII FRANKIE!_" Goo screeched, and Mac covered his ears.

The chandelier fell to the floor and shattered, the end result of a terrified Hook that was supremely startled at the young girl's incredibly high pitch. Goo squealed in fright, and was then overcome with guilt.

"OhmygoshOhmygoshOhmygosh! I'm super duper sorry! I didn't mean it, honest! I'll get a new one and then we'll hang it up and it'll be all pretty and then we'll forget all this ever happened and then we'll-"

"**SHUT UP.**" Hook thundered, and the girl focused on the crane.

"Well, _excuuuuse _me. I'm giving an apology and you're all like Mister Meany-Bo-Beany Pants and-and why are you a crane?" Her anger dispersed into curiosity as she just realized what she was talking to, a smaller scale green and purple crane.

"Goo, Mac, this is Hook." Frankie finally found her voice and introduced the green crane. "And that's Bonecrusher." Her right hand arched over her back and pointed towards a rather gruff looking robot who looked as though he wanted to pummel the snot out of something. Goo mistook this for something else and waved. Mac saw Bonecrusher's gaze and decided that he was to be avoided unless you want an awkward atmosphere.

If Goo and Mac weren't already surprised at two new friends, then what happened next was utterly mind-blowing.

Hook transformed from his crane alt-mode to his robot form, the crane arm slung across his back and a thick red visor on his face. Otherwise, he was still green and purple with wheels on his arms and legs.

"I'll get this fixed up in a nanocycle, Francis." Hook said as he picked up the shattered chandelier and walked up to his room, Bonecrusher in tow. Mac and Goo stared in awe at the two Constructicons, and was taken notice by Frankie.

"Wanna go meet the others?" She asked, and the two children looked at her in shock.

"Others?" Mac asked, and Goo's jaw dropped.

"Yeah, four others. I'll let Bloo show you." The two children eagerly ran upstairs. As Bloo was about to take his first step onto the stairs, Frankie snarled in his nonexistent ear; "_Behave_." And the terrified Bloo ran after his friends.

"Was that necessary, dear?" Madame Foster asked. Mr. Herriman answered her.

"Trust me Madame, when it comes to handling Master Blooregard, Miss Frances is an profound expert."

* * *

Bloo ran faster than his friends up the stairs to the Constructicon's room. But this was not out of spite or to show off how fast he could run, this was out of fear that Frankie might actually pummel him to bits. That is, unless he introduced the Constructicons properly. Then he wouldn't have to deal with Frankie snuffing his life out and then everything might be back to normal.

Maybe.

"Bloo, wait up!" Mac called out to his creation.

"Yeah Speedy Gonzales! Can't you slow down just an itty-bitty bit?" Goo yelled, but Bloo wasn't listening. This was strange for Bloo not to have some disastrously dumb comeback or an attempt to regain his dignity. It was almost as if he was running from someone.

_Probably Frankie._ Mac thought to himself.

Bloo raced around a corner and stopped in front of the second door, which was made of purple metal and had a silver button on it. Bloo pushed his arm against the button, and the sound of a bell echoed on the other side. Mac and Goo had caught up, in which the former was impressed with this mechanism.

"What are they, builders?" He asked as Bloo rang the bell again.

"Hm, beats me." Goo answered.

"HANG ON!" A voice called out from the other side. Locks on the opposite end clinked and clanked as they opened, and the door swung aside to reveal a green robot with a mouthplate. Unlike Hook or Bonecrusher, this one had a somewhat pacifist character to it.

"Hey Scavenger." Bloo said. "This is my boy, Mac."

"Hi."

"And this is his girlfriend, Goo."

"Hi, I'm-_WAIT WHAT?_" Goo roared as Bloo sniggered at his own lame joke, and Mac blushed furiously.

"I thought Frankie was his girlfriend." Scavenger thought out loud. Bloo hiccuped in his own laughter, with Goo joining him. Mac buried his face in his arms.

"Oh my God you guys, stop it." He whined, but came onto deaf ears and receptors. Bloo finally stopped laughing enough to comfort his uncomfortable kid.

"Easy Mac. It's just a joke." He slapped Mac's back lightly. Bloo peered behind Scavenger at a degree, and asked;

"Where's everyone else?"

Scavenger crossed his arms. "Scrapper's asleep. Mixmaster is currently finding a test subject for his invisibility potion and Long Haul is helping me on a project for the new space bridge."

Mac slapped his forehead and groaned. "Ugh, I forgot; I have my own chemistry project due tomorrow. We're supposed to finish it in class but..."

"But what?" Bloo asked while imitating Scavenger's own arms.

"My Chem teacher is absent for tomorrow and he's sending in a sub. We have to get it handed in by the end of class tomorrow or I'll drop to a C. I hate chemistry." Mac groaned. Goo and Scavenger rolled their eyes and optics while Bloo didn't understand a word that he said.

"Did someone say chemi-chemi-chemistry?" A voice called down from the corner of the hallway, and a viciously grinning Mixmaster came spinning around the corner. In his hand he held a huge cyan flask with a glowing white substance inside of it. Mac was somewhat surprised, because not many people he knew liked chemistry. Goo gawked at the cyan vial in Mixmaster's hands.

Bloo stared at Mixmaster like a three headed chicken due to what he just said, and Scavenger nudged him,

"He does that when he gets excited." He whispered, and Bloo nodded.

"What's in there?" Goo asked while pointing at said object. "Is it top secret? A weapon? Ooh, maybe a toxic vapor that turns everyone into hungry flesh-eating zombies! Like the Apocalypse of Nostradamus, or like Michael Bay's _Armageddon._ And then we'll hide out and find the cure and then we'll be HEROES!" She squeaked. Mixmaster stared awkwardly at the girl.

"Uh, actually, it's an invisibility potion." He said while stirring it, causing the small blanket of sediments on the bottom to disintegrate into fluids again.

"That's even better!" She screamed, and snatched the flask out of Mixmaster's hands. The two Constructicons barely managed to spout a word before Goo chugged half the flask down her throat. She hiccuped, and then the strangest thing happened.

Goo didn't turn invisible, she was far from it.

The normally bright colors on her body and clothes had turned into a bright _pink_. Her hair looked like strands of super-long taffy and even her pupils had turned a bright red. In other words, she looked utterly ridiculous, and Bloo turned into a raving blue hyena, barely managing his posture. Mac and Scavenger stood in shock at the poor girl.

Goo took one look a her body, and wailed.

"Pink?! I hate pink!" Her anger focused on the cement mixer behind her. "This is your fault! You lied to me! You said that it would make me turn invisible! Now how am I gonna pants people in public without getting caught?" Bloo laughed at the 'pantsing' part, while Scavenger face-palmed. A long time watching Earth television with Rampage and Thundercracker told the mobile shovel loader that it was not only embarrassing, but incredibly annoying.

"Well, I was about to tell you the side effects until you drank half the flask." Mixmaster said.

"But you said-!" Goo whined, but Mixmaster held up a hand and silenced the girl.

"This will wear off in about two Earth hours. Now boy, you had some trouble in chemistry?"

* * *

_The next day..._

The substitute teacher knew something was incredibly off when she entered into the chemistry lab. Though she expected kids to behave much more irrationally than with the normal teacher because of the lack of familiarity, every one of them was quietly sitting down and staring at the green and purple figure sitting down at the top-left table. Said figure had two cones above his head and what looked like a cement drum on his back.

"Alright, Alex..." She began.

"Here!"

"Tim..."

"Here!"

"Tommy..."

"Present."

"Mac..."

"Here."

Her vision was locked on the smiling green bot, and she leaned in carefully to the sloppily written name tag posted on the very bottom of his chestplate.

"... Mixmaster?" She said slowly. Mixmaster gave a laugh.

As the teacher wondered whatever the robot laughed about, she continued to write down the student's names on the clipboard. Mixmaster, serving as a guest, was not accounted for.

Mixmaster didn't need some Earthling chemistry set. Hell, he spent over four million years studying how elements reacted with each other and how to utilize them into weapons. He was the one who was behind the original science for the pallet gun, even though the Autobot weapons expert Ironfist was the one who decided to mass-produce it. in front of him stood the items for the lab; one beaker of water, one beaker of ethanol (which he scanned) a thermometer, a beaker holder and a Bunsen burner. Mixmaster snorted to himself on how primitive the Earth experiments were.

He reclaimed his prized miniature chemical lab from his personal subspace and placed the enormous collection of beakers, wires and burners on the table, all on top of a purple slab of heavy metal. Small screens provided an insight on what was going on, and knobs coated the areas that didn't have either a test tube or a television. Mac stared at the monstrous chemistry set on the table, along with the rest of the equally dumbfounded class and the substitute.

"Mixmaster, what is that?"

"This, my boy..." Mixmaster began with extremely dramatic approach, "Is the most _advanced_ and effective portable lab ever built on Cybertron!"

"Mixmaster, keep the drama to a minimum please." The substitute said, and Mixmaster nodded. The cement mixer turned his head to the boy who was currently watching his friend's chemistry lab literally conduct itself.

"Neat, ain't it?"

"I am SO getting one of these." Mac grinned.

Mixmaster snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that. There's only three in the galaxy, and one of them is with the Autobots."

Mac put his hand up to his chin and began to think. "If one of them is here, and other with them, then there must be one more."

"You wanna search every speck in the cosmos looking for something this galactically small?" Mixmaster asked. "Good luck."

"Mixmaster, Mac; do your work." The female teacher scolded, and Mixmaster rolled his optics.

"Alright," He said rather deflated, "What do you have to do?"

Mac leaned over towards the portable laboratory and tried finding a good point to reference his current assignment. "We have to use a Bunsen burner to see if ethanol will react in water." He said. Mac was yet again trying to find a good point for the lab to be placed in the monstrous alien object.

"That's it?" Mixmaster asked. "I thought we were gonna actually do something _fun_."

Mac felt defeated as soon as Mixmaster realized he wasn't going to do anything on his level. According to the Constructicon, he was a chemist nearly all his life, and doing this petite experiment was utterly child's play and a waste of time. Did Mac really need Mixmaster to do this, or did he bring him just to show off?

"However ..." Mixmaster began, "I can make this a bit more exciting, if you say."

Mixmaster reached inside of his portable lab and pulled out several test tubes, each one holding a glowing liquid, some green, blue, orange, you name it; Mixmaster's lab came in real handy. He placed all of the test tubes back except for one: the orange tube. Mixmaster grinned wickedly and leaned the tube over the beaker of ethanol, which was currently awaiting to join the water.

"Alright, watch a master at work."

Slowly, he poured three drop of the highly viscous orange fluid into the ethanol. Said ethanol, after a few seconds of stoic stillness despite the orange stuff being added inside, began to glow an incredible bright white. Mac was amazed.

"Holy cow Mixmaster, I didn't know ethanol could do that! I ... Mixmaster?" As Mac wrote down observations about the incredible light, he turned his head to see Mixmaster whom he expected to see really happy for a good experiment.

Instead, Mixmaster's face was scrawled in dread and guilt, like a small child that just broke a priceless object. He eyed the experiment inside of the beaker like someone who had just witness an invisible murder.

"Oh no ..." He croaked, the universal sign for; 'Something bad will happen.'

"Mixmaster, what's wrong?" Mac asked, his own fear increasing.

"Oh no no no."

"Mixmaster?" The young boy asked again.

"Child, did you know that ethanol is very explosive when given the right circumstances?"

"N-no. Why?"

Mixmaster gulped. "Well," He rubbed the back of his helm. "I _kinda_ made it a bit more explosive."

"W-What do you mean?" Mac croaked, and his green friend pointed at the beaker, which was glowing brighter than usual despite it being bright already.

And it was shaking like an invisible earthquake was occurring.

"Is it going to, you know, **explode**?" Mac asked, his voice tinged with pure fear.

"Think about it this way; I just made a star about to go supernova in liquid form." Mixmaster laughed pathetically, knowing that he might have sent himself, Mac, and this school straight to the Pit.

"That's bad, right?"

"_Very, very bad._" Mixmaster said.

Thinking quickly, Mixmaster subspace his portable lab back inside of him, and instead pulled out his personal weapon; a pallet gun. Mac eyed the weapon in horror, thoughts about what Mixmaster might do racing through his mind. Mixmaster turned to the boy and said; "I'm going to put you in my personal subspace. It'll get you out of harm's way."

"But-!" Mac barely began his sentence when the Constructicon reached over and grabbed his hand. He was gone in a flash.

"_Alright, everybody out NOW!_" Mixmaster thundered, and shot several rounds into the ceiling. The kids screamed in terror and the substitute immediately grabbed the closest child to her and ordered them out. The kids quickly scrambled out, leaving Mixmaster and the sub.

"Mixmaster, I have no idea what the fuck you're doing, but-_WHOA!_" Mixmaster fired a pallet round straight at the substitute's feet.

"Mixmaster, stop! You're destroying the lab!"

"By the time that beaker explodes, there won't be a lab!" He pointed at the glowing white beaker, which looked bright enough to rival the sun.

"Get out!" He roared, and the woman ran out as fast as she could. Mixmaster transformed and followed her.

Seconds later, the beaker stopped shaking.

And detonated.

* * *

"...reports say that the explosion at this middle school was an experiment gone wrong. Though teachers are keeping quiet about the incident, some say that ..." The newswoman babbled on about how this could have seriously harmed the children. Behind her was once a completely built school with many rooms. Now, it had lost several due to a huge explosion inside a laboratory.

Mixmaster and Mac stood idle as firetrucks poured water onto the immense flame that was once a laboratory as it flickered into the atmosphere, dark clouds bellowing beside it.

"Well, that was a total disaster." Mac deadpanned.

"No slag, Sherlock. What gave you that idea, half the school exploding?" Mixmaster snarled in response.

"You get bitter when experiments go awry don't ya?" Mac asked.

"Of course. Waste of excellent resources."

Several seconds of eyeing the burning school ticked by before Mixmaster spoke up again.

"How was subspace?"

Mac shuddered. "Like floating in a vat of jelly."

Unbeknownst to both boy and bot, three vehicles parked themselves in front of the burning school. One of them, a Lamborghini Countach, with a fire chief design on the hood, was in a rant. Behind him was a yellow crane and a black and red Chevy Tahoe with a built in hauling arm in the back.

"I told you guys there was gonna be trouble! Look at us, we just attract trouble like magnets!"

"Zip it, Red Alert." Grapple growled. "I'm not in the best of moods 'cuz some idiot kid decided to blow up half a building."

"Well, look on the bright side; at least nobody's dead." Trailbreaker mumbled, and Grapple sighed.

"Meh." His crane arm lifted the wreckage of smoldering timber and melted steel, several classroom items falling out of the pile and into the tumble. Grapple piled up his weight and placed it onto a dump truck waiting to be filled. Trailbreaker transformed and hosed down the fire easily, much to the many thanks of the firefighters there.

"Guys." Red Alert croaked.

"What is it Red?" Trailbreaker asked.

"Turn your optics twenty-three degrees left, two notches down." Red Alert said.

Trailbreaker followed the instructions, his red optic band slowly turning to the set direction that Red Alert explained to them. Grapple followed suite, and was shocked to see what they were looking at.

"Is that-?"

"_Mixmaster?_" Trailbreaker finished, stunned to see the Constructicon.

"Who's that next to him?" Grapple asked.

"Just a child."

"Why's he so tiny? Did they mess up a matter converter on him or something?" Trailbreaker wondered aloud, the assault trooper wondering what the Decepticon chemist could be doing here.

"I dunno."

Mixmaster, in the distance, transformed back into his cement mixer alt-mode. The chestnut-haired child climbed on top of him, and both went to their way in the distance.

"What was that all about?" Grapple wondered.

"Maybe Mixmaster hypnotized the child." Red Alert said, and Trailbreaker gave the security director a bizarre stare.

"What? You know how Mixmaster is, mixing up chemicals and formulas to annihilate us."

"Well, whatever it is, Mixmaster and the kid, the school exploding, I know one thing." Trailbreaker said, and pulled out his internal radio.

"What's that?" Red Alert asked.

"Optimus is gonna love this report."


	4. Crackups and Crackdowns

Chapter 4: Crackups and Crackdowns

High in the fourth floor laid the Constructicon's bedroom, which also doubled as their stationary workshop as they stayed at Foster's for an unknown time being. Laden inside were several blueprints tacked onto a wall above a desk. Next to the desk was a massive donut-shaped machine, with a computer module on one of the sides. It was purple, typical of something built from Decepticons. Next to the machine was Hook, who was wiring a power cable from an outlet that was completely torn apart in order to compensate for the sheer power that was needed for the space-bridge machine.

Sitting in front of the desk was Scrapper, and the human Frankie behind him. On the other side of the room near the berths, Scavenger, Bloo and Mac were playing cards as they waited for Frankie and Scrapper to come back and tell them the news. So far, Mac was winning against the Constructicon miner and his imaginary friend. Bloo, clearly getting more desperate, leaned over to peak at Scavenger's hand, and was promptly slapped away.

"How long until, you know, you guys are gone?" Frankie asked above Scrapper.

"In all the estimates, about half a week." Frankie's eyes widened at Scrapper's answer.

"That soon?" She said out loud, and earned Scavenger's and Mac's attention.

"Yep." Scrapper turned to the human. "You're not upset that we're leaving, right?"

"N-No. It's just-" Frankie sighed. "You guys made my life here way easier; your friends helped clean, cook and repair things that would've taken me weeks."

"Then I'm happy for that." Scrapper said, and resumed his work on the holopad on his desk. Scavenger laid down a two, and scrambled to take the deck of cards. Frankie pondered for a couple seconds before talking again.

"Will you ever come back?"

Scrapper sighed and put down the holo-stencil. Somehow, he knew that this was going to be difficult for the redhead, who was now used to calling down a couple green Decepticons when she needed help. He swiveled his chair and faced the girl.

"Sadly, no. We belong to other forces, Frankie. We aren't meant to stay here." Scrapper replied plainly.

"Why?" She asked, getting more flustered with every passing second, and Scrapper was sensing it.

"Because we are soldiers. We are fighting a war and my people need me." Scrapper said as he stood up and faced the girl. Despite his now shorter stature, he was still taller than a regular human, including Frankie. Frankie's mouth dropped, aghast at Scrapper's seemingly selfish claim.

"**I need you!**" She loudly called out, and Scrapper cocked his head to the right. Frankie embarrassingly smiled and blushed a light shade of red.

"You need us?" He asked, very confused. What would Frankie need with his Constructicons, and make it more important than getting back home to the _Nemesis_? Scrapper was about to find out.

"YES! You guys are the best workers in the galaxy! You're so good, you can repair things while blindfolded! Mixmaster can cook like a professional and Long Haul keeps everyone quiet at lunchtime!" Frankie retorted, and that's when Scrapper finally realized what Frankie was trying to say.

"Oh, I get it. You want us to stay so we can do all the work, while you go ahead and sit on your lazy aft all day." Scrapper crossed his arms and his visor grew a little more dark, evidence that he was obviously not pleased.

"Scrapper, I work all day and barely have any breaks. I could use some lean bots like you." Frankie countered, hoping to buy into Scrapper's good side.

"You sort out lost toys and boohoos, I _hardly _count that as work." Scrapper puffed, and Frankie's mouth nearly hit the floor. Scrapper had the gall to tell her that she does child's play, while he does real work? He was gonna get a piece of her mind.

"Oh yeah? Well listen here buster, I toil under a rabbit dictator with no breaks, hardly any pay and barely any sleep. I have so little friends you could count them with one hand, and my life is gonna be stuck here, working in this-this madhouse! What kind of future is that?" Frankie yelled, but the Constructicon eldest was unfazed.

"I can calculate how many people would _kill_ for a job like yours." He said. "Frankie, you might believe that this house leads to a dead end, but it's a better life than what's out there. Out there, I've seen people work in slums, dumps and chutes. Some people clean out waste as a job, with NO pay and NO breaks. Me? I get breaks by going into warzones and shooting Autobots, and pay is alien to me, despite the fact that I myself am an alien. Count yourself lucky and quit your _bitching_."

Scrapper sat back down, obviously done talking to the redhead. He tapped the holopad, grabbed his stencil and got back to work. Frankie stared at Scrapper for a second, her mind swirling with both frustration and a bit of selfishness.

_'Am I really that stupid to bring up work to Scrapper, who has probably worked for eons before me?' _Frankie sighed mentally and faced the Constructicon again.

"Scrapper..." Frankie began, unsure if he'd listen to her, "I'm sorry. It's just-"

"You like us." Hook finished from his place near at the indoor space bridge. Frankie looked at the Constructicon designer, who was still at his place near the space-bridge control module.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Francis, I hated you the first moment I laid my optics on you." Hook said without a degree of hesitation, startling Frankie and Mac. Bloo and Scavenger were too busy working on their game. "To me, you were a typical annoying fleshling who whined about everything. But as time progressed, I saw that even you could make people happy, even if they aren't really _people_." Hook focused his attention at the blue imaginary friend, while Bloo returned with a soul-piercing glare.

"I'm not sure whether that was an insult or a praise from such a stuck-up snob." Frankie smirked, and Scavenger giggled behind his deck of cards.

"She got you there, Hook!" He called, and Hook shot a stink eye at the Constructicon miner.

"Well, before you guys go, can you tell us?" Frankie asked politely to Hook, who nodded.

"Sure."

"Hey Frankie, I know what could make you less stressful." Scavenger spoke up like an angel sent from the Almighty himself.

"Really? Do you have a degree in being a masseuse or something?" Frankie asked Scavenger. She did notice Bloo snickering behind the mobile shovel, and it appeared Scavenger was also having a hard time keeping himself from laughing.

And then he dropped the bomb.

"You and Mac should mate."

The Constructicon's room was dead quiet. Scrapper wheeled his chair in the blink of an eye to see if Scavenger didn't blow a fuse in his logic circuits. Hook's tools dropped out of his hand and he too was looking at Scavenger, his jaw flapping up and down as if he was trying to form words to berate Scavenger. Bloo was too busy laughing to care.

Mac, on the other hand, covered his head with his hands to hide his blushing, his whole face turning redder than a tomato. He was also shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Frankie's eyes went as wide as saucers, her jaw dropped, and stared at Scavenger to see if he was serious.

He was.

"I know what you're all thinking; 'Oh Scavenger! What a great idea!' But listen, we need to-"

"_THAT'S A HORRIBLE IDEA!_" Frankie thundered, which startled Scavenger. "You want me, a twenty-two year old woman, to _breed _with a ten year old kid?" Scavenger's great idea turned out to be a total flop, and he knew it. He sulked and hung his head in shame.

"I heard sex was a good stress reliever." Scavenger mumbled, and Frankie grabbed him by the neck cables and pulled his head closer to her's.

"Who told you that?!" She spat.

Unsurprisingly, Scavenger pointed at Bloo. He smiled, but not of courtesy. This was the 'Oh God I'm caught red-handed' sort of smile.

"Oh well, look at the time!" Bloo said while staring at his wrist, obviously pretending there was a watch. "Gottagobyebye!"

"_**BLOOOOOOOOOOO!**_"

* * *

"Well, today was rather interesting..." Mac said as he filed another folder into a metal drawer in Frankie's computer desk. Behind him, Frankie and Wilt were doing the exact same thing but at a pace that would tell an observer that there was a rather awkward atmosphere. After Bloo ran around the house telling everyone what Scavenger said, the Constructicons have taken it upon themselves to berate Scavenger and Bloo for being 'mindless idiots'. Scavenger was sentenced to a full day's worth of chores, while Bloo was forced to work with him.

Frankie could have thought of many things for Scavenger to do for punishment for hinting pseudo-incest, but for now she was giving him something easy since they were leaving within the week. He was mopping and cleaning. Scavenger protested until Frankie threatened to reduce him to his primary struts and melt him into paperclips. Goo thing he thought she was serious, because he was on that floor in no time.

"I'm sorry to be rude, but what in the world was Scavenger thinking?" Wilt said after filing a yellow folder.

"What else? His self-esteem issues are so low he even listened to Bloo." Frankie responded coldly, trying not to remember what happened earlier today.

"Poor guy." Mac mumbled. "Long Haul said that he's only useful because his shovel can detect minerals and materials. He tries his best to make friends, but that just makes him look like a bigger dork than he already is."

"Y'know I can hear you, right?" Scavenger's voice called out from the other side of the room, where he was sweeping the hallway with a wet mop. "This is so degrading..."

"Keep whining, shovel-boy." Frankie sneered playfully.

Scavenger groaned.

"Hey Frankie, what's this?" Mac asked, and held a picture which he found inside of one of the files marked 'Old Stuff'. The file was old and tattered, as if someone had crumpled it inside of something cramped. The picture was of a beautiful young woman, dressed in silky attire and sprawled out quite seductively on a bed with white sheets. The woman had red hair and familiar emerald eyes.

"OhmyGodFrankieisthat-mmph?" Wilt began to say one of Frankie's dirtiest secrets but was interrupted by one of her hands covering his mouth. But by then, Mac had already figured out that this woman looked strikingly resembling.

His eyes went to the size equal to that of the moon as he dropped the picture like it was made of magma, yelping like a kicked dog as he crawled away from the obscene photo. His face was pink from the blushing he had going on.

"Wilt. Outside. Please?" The redheaded caretaker asked the basketball star, who was a bit disturbed that none other than _Mac _had found snuff of Frankie. As he left, Frankie whisked over to Mac, but the boy was already scared witless.

"No-! Frankie-! I didn't-!" He cried out to the advancing woman, and shut his eyes and covered his face so he wouldn't have to face being beaten to death.

Instead, he found himself lifted up onto her bed. Frankie's arms were wrapped around the ten year old like a snake, and Mac was terrified. His whimpering could probably be heard outside as Wilt, Scavenger and Bloo wondered what the heck was going on. As time progressed, Mac realized something odd. His mouth was tight shut out of fear. That whimpering wasn't his.

"Frankie?" He asked softly to the redhead, who had her head buried in his shoulder.

"Oh, Mac... I'm so so sorry." She cried, and Mac was left confused.

"Frankie, why are you sorry? I didn't do anything wrong, it's just a picture for, like, a boyfriend, right?"

"No, Mac." Frankie said darkly, which scared Mac. "That time, back then, was a real hell for me. Excuse me." She excused herself after realizing she swore in front of a kid.

"It's okay." Mac smiled, and Frankie picked him up and dropped him off her bed.

"Mac, back then I was a real wild child, like someone who snuck out to go drink and drive with the wrong people. I was about eighteen when I took that photo. I wasn't right in the head, all lost and confused..."

"Because of your parents?" Mac asked.

"Yeah. I took it real hard and took out those hard feelings on other people. I was cold, violent and mean. A true bully."

Mac shuffled his feet together, but felt the soft hands of Frankie touch down on his shoulders as she leaned on the metal rail at the end of her bed. He blushed slightly, remembering when he, Bloo a pizzaman and an imaginary Prince Charming tried to earn Frankie's love. It was hectic and was glad that he didn't tell Mixmaster, otherwise the insane chemist would've probably made a love poison or something like that.

"Mac, when you get older, please listen to your conscience." Frankie concluded.

"Okay Frankie." Mac said, as he learned a new lesson.

"You're a good kid, Mac. I certainly-"

As Frankie was about to finish her statement, something awful occurred right below her hands. The added pressure of Frankie's weight on the old iron bars at the end of her bed began to give, her body pressing the bars to bend and buckle. Finally the metal was strained to it's last atom. It snapped.

_TWANG!_

Completely taken by surprise, Frankie bowled down on the equally unprepared Mac, both unprepared for such an event. Both heads clonked into one-another's as they tumbled down towards the floor in a heap of human essence. Mac grunted as Frankie's larger body crushed him, and the air inside of Frankie's lungs jettisoned out of her lungs due to Mac's body.

Both Frankie and Mac opened their eyes and prepared to suck in some air after collapsing on each other. However, there was a small problem...

Frankie's and Mac's mouths were _touching_. Both went into panic overdrive as they waited for the other to part their mouth from their own, their eyes widening and pupils shrinking to the size of pin-heads. Mac could feel blood rushing to every part of his body, cold and fear-riddled as he stared at Frankie. The redhead mentally cursed herself for being so clumsy.

And then it got worse.

"Frankie?! Mac?! You okay?" Barreling through the door to her room was Bloo, Wilt and Scavenger. All three had heard a metallic crunch on the other side of the door, and rushed in to check if everything was alright.

"We heard a... whoa." Wilt mumbled, as he found himself confused a the sight of Frankie and Mac on top of each other. Plus their mouths were touching...

Wait, what?

Wilt instinctively covered his eyes and let out a disgusted grunt to hide the sight in front of him. Looks like Frankie had a special side to Mac anyway...

Bloo and Scavenger stared dumbly at the 'kissing' couple at the floor for several seconds before Bloo spoke out of his stupor. If one could see closely, Scavenger's bizarre mouthplate began to surface upwards in a weird sort of smile.

"Man, Mac always get the big score..." He mumbled angrily.

"Looks like my idea worked." Scavenger said proudly. The gears inside of Bloo's head began to spin as soon as Scavenger mentioned 'idea'. Quickly, his diabolical plan unfolded against the boy and his secret crush, and to get them into the biggest trouble he ever imagined. He could see it clearly; Herriman in an uproar and Frankie doing his chores again. All he needed was a little support.

"Scavvy, take a pic!" Bloo yelled out suddenly. Scavenger nooded and quickly took an internal snapshot of the sight.

Unfortunately, Scavenger forgot that the internal cameras also came with a built in snapshot reminder sound system to alert subscribers to new updates. One of them was the classical shutter sound when a person took a picture. Humans knew this sound instinctively.

"Got it." The Constructicon said, and slapped a high five with Bloo.

And then they saw Frankie, Wilt, and Mac approach them. Each had a different look in their eyes, but only one resided in similarity.

_Pure, unforgiving fury._

Scavenger's optics and Bloo's eyes widened with fear.

"Run?" Bloo squeaked, while tugging at the Constructicon's arm.

"Yeah." Scavenger quickly transformed into his mobile shovel mode, which surprisingly had a good amount of speed. Bloo hopped onto his arm for dear life as the two humans and the imaginary creature lunged to grab the blob and the alien. A clean miss for both of them as Scavenger tore down the hallway in a panic attack, Bloo panting like a rabid beast at the sight of Frankie lunging furiously at them.

Mac and Frankie quickly chased them, and Wilt ran for a speakerphone. Quickly rushing one up to his mouth, he yelled inside as the chase began.

_"ATTENTION! Sorry for this, but we've got Scavenger and Bloo carrying precious cargo! I repeat; Scavenger and Bloo are carrying precious cargo and need to be stopped! Anyone who stops them will be free of chores for a whole year! Stop Scavenger and Bloo!"_

And very quickly, a simple accident transformed into one of Foster's greatest chases of all time.


	5. Chasing Bots

Chapter 5: Chasing Bots

Bloo was never so easily scared. He took on the enraged World, in his freakish laser-gun toy triceratops body with only sticks and stones. He bravely gave his life to eat the berries on the camping trip to see if they were poisonous. The truth was, Bloo was never really that good of a thinker. He was stubborn and gluttonous, which got into more trouble than most other resident in the house. As a physical embodiment of Mac's more masculine side, Bloo was easily the more risk-taking type.

Scavenger was the youngest of the Constructicons. Raised in Altihex, he worked as a simple miner before he realized his shovel's special power to detect vast quantities of minerals and metals buried under miles of stalagmites near the Sea of Rust. After being recruited into the Constructicons, he and his new team went to explore and built out of the realm of Cybertron, following Megatron and the other Decepticons. He would usually venture deep into unknown underground territories, seek out the minerals that laid beneath the rock and dig them up. He was built to last.

Both organic and Cybertronian knew what it was like to get scared witless with the threat of evisceration behind them.

This was one of those.

"_Gang way, organics!_" Scavenger bellowed after turning a right corner to escape the incoming mob. Bloo barely clung onto the Constructicon's cabin and swung like a pendulum.

"Scavenger, where's the picture?" Bloo asked.

"Hang on-I'm trying to materialize it as we speak!" Scavenger weaved again and again. This house was definitely not designed for a speeding power shovel's escape. Scavenger knew that all too well. Bloo, being smaller and much more maneuverable, was custom to running through the house like a madman.

"Got it?" Bloo asked again, hoping that all this trouble would have some results.

"Got it!" And the picture flew out of Scavenger's cabin. It was small, about the size of a small book, but that only meant that storing it somewhere would be easier.

"Alright, now that we got our stuff, it's time we did some-_LOOK OUT!_"

"**_RWWWAAAGGHR!_**" Barreling towards them in a fanatic frenzy was none other than Eduardo, enraged at the alien and his friend's antics. Scavenger desperately tried to evade the monstrous purple friend, but caught starboard by Ed's massive horns and was sent spinning down a flight of stairs. Bloo soared down with Scavenger screaming for mercy at the last floor.

They landed with a titanic thud, with caused a large crater in the wooden floor. Scavenger had transformed during his fall and was on his back staring upwards.

"Slag, that hurt."

"You can say that again." Out from underneath Scavenger rose Bloo, bruises laden on top of his blue head.

"I'm sorry, but if you just controlled yourselves then we wouldn't have to do this to you!" Wilt called down from the top stairs, Coco and Eduardo next to him.

"Si, estoy muy stupido!" Eduardo called out, obviously insulting the two down under in another language.

"_-Just get rid of the picture and we'll stop this-_" Coco said angrily.

Bloo gave a defiant glare to the three who dared to defy his grand scheme, and tried to pull out the dazed Scavenger put of his crater. The Constructicon was too heavy, as Bloo found out, but got himself out anyway.

"We'll never give up!" Bloo jumped on top of the transformed Scavenger. "HIGH HO, SCAVENGER!" The two took off, leaving the three upstairs in the dust.

* * *

-_Elsewhere_-

"Frankie, hold up!" Mac cried out, tired as he could be from trying to keep up with Scavenger at breakneck speed. The young kid never knew how fast a power shovel could be, even one from outer space. Bloo and Scavenger knew that Mac and Frankie would be on them like bloodhounds, and speed was of the essence.

Frankie, however, was too preoccupied with her self-ranting prowess. She had every right to be mad, for a new friend-no, _alien_-already stuck himself with Bloo's horrible schemes, and enjoyed it. Scavenger was young for his kind, but doing this type of thing to her was unbelievable. Frankie just hoped that Hook would be able to give Scavenger a good long talk about doing stupid stuff.

"Of all the rotten, no-good crap Bloo throws at me, this is it! I've had it!" She screamed, and Mac flinched.

"Maybe we could-" He stammered, but Frankie cut him off.

"Mac, please, I'm trying to think."

From a small place in the back of his head, Mac heard something. It was almost like the sounds of treads on a wooden floor. Mac's face instantly brightened at this sound, and a smile crept up on his mouth.

"Frankie, do you hear that?" He asked. Frankie stared into silence for a brief second, as if there was something tat she could see and hear at the same time.

"Hear what?"

"That sound - listen." Frankie shut her mouth and the entire hallway sank into silence. And then Frankie heard it.

"Are those treads?" Mac's smile grew broader.

"And who, do you mind, has treads? AND someone we want to see?"

"_Scavenger._ He's probably got Bloo riding right on top of him." Frankie grinned mischievously. She leaned down, grabbed the startled Mac, and lifted him on top of her shoulders.

"C'mon little man, we got a bot to catch."

* * *

"SLAGSLAGSLAGSLAG_SLAG!_" Scavenger felt his entire body lift upwards towards the right after that massive corner spin. Bloo barely clung on as the daring duo made their escape towards Herriman's office, concoct their grand scheme and return everything back to normal.

If it weren't for the large amount of friends who hated chores more than Bloo did after Wilt made the promise, than it would have been smooth sailing. But every friend they came across had some sort of miserable method to try to get the two runaways. Scavenger found it hard to believe that, only living in Foster's for a couple of days, Frankie could have such an influence with her chores. But the sad part on Scavenger's point of view was the friends (Scavenger stressed that term greatly) here would use some pretty diabolical things to get away with no chores.

Jackie Khones tried offering a bite of his sandwich. Scavenger found several grams of sleeping pills inside.

Crackers attempted, with the help of Bloppypants and Preparation Ape, to net in the Constructicon. Thankfully the net was too weak for the three to capture the other two, and Scavenger and Bloo tore through it at breakneck speeds.

But the ones who were trying the hardest to stop them was Ed, Coco and Wilt, probably because of their great affiliation with Frankie and didn't want her reputation tarnished. Countless times they tried (and sometimes succeeded) in stopping Scavenger and Bloo, but when they did the dynamic duo always slithered or wormed their way out. It was either hit-and-run, constant bombardment from Coco's eggs or Wilt attempting to snatch Bloo off of the speeding power shovel. Ed had also taken the rather violent means of using a police tactic that his very creator taught him. It was called the pit maneuver or something like that.

"Are we there yet?!" Yelled Scavenger, who was clearly not enjoying being chased.

"I dunno! You figure it out!" Bloo yelled back, leaving an appalled Scavenger.

"_ME?! _I don't even live here!" He retorted.

"Fine! Just keep going forward, maybe we'll -"

Something collided with the imaginary friend at a speed that matched no other. Bloo's vision went dark but clung on to the nearest thing that was at his disposal, which was still Scavenger. As he opened his eyes, he realized just what hit him. Lying on top of both him and Scavenger was Mac and Frankie, back with a vengeance. Frankie was clawing at Scavenger's small cockpit, screaming for him to stop. Mac held an iron grip on Scavenger's shovel, obviously scared for dear life.

Frankie suddenly locked her enraged eyes straight onto Bloo, and he swore for a second he felt as though he was staring death in the face.

She roared and lunged at the blue blob, but missed and nearly fell from Scavenger. Bloo, though slightly terrified still managed to get a kick out of Frankie's mishap.

"Ha, nice move blubber-butt!" Bloo sneered, and smacked Frankie in the upper thigh just below her ass. Frankie's eyes went as wide as dinner plates at Bloo's obscene little stunt, and Mac's jaw dropped.

"You little pervert! I'll smash you into blue paste!" Frankie shrieked.

"Not yet!" Scavenger said, and spun down a flight of stairs. This time, however, he had complete control over his movements. A lifetime of sliding down avalanches and cave-ins taught the young Constructicon how to avoid being crushed. Spinning a 360, Mac and Frankie were flung off his cabin as he transformed, and landed in the main lobby. Bloo was right behind him, and gasped to see where they were.

Bloo instantly knew their place, as the many schemes over the months led him right back here.

"Scavenger, we're here! This way, this way, this way!" He chanted excitedly, with Scavenger behind him. Bloo could see it; their destination.

Herriman's office.

"We're gonna-!"

Mac suddenly smacked into Bloo, tumbling over and over on top of his friend. The boy tore the photo of his accidental make-out from his friend's grip in a glimmer of a chance. Bloo tried to get back his grandest item, but to no avail; Mac was bigger and stronger.

"MAC YOU TREACHEROUS WORM! I'll smite you! No wait, Herriman will do that for us!" Bloo yelled, but Mac was unfazed.

"Some scheme you dolts made." Mac smirked.

In a flash, the photo was gone from Mac's hand. He looked back to see the seven-foot-tall Scavenger holding it high above his head. Mac tried to jump up to Scavenger's height, but was too short to do anything beyond his knees.

"So sad." Scavenger mumbled, and shoved aside Mac to his rump, picked up Bloo from his ashamed place and marched towards Herriman's office.

That is, until he was completely blindsided by four beings; Coco, Wilt, Ed and Frankie. Scavenger stood no chance and was toppled along with Bloo like an old tree. He fell with a crunch as the heaviest of the four literally sat on top of him. Wilt plucked the photo out of Scavenger's hand, while Coco laid an egg. When said egg popped open, there was only one rather long item inside.

A long steel cord.

"Please tell me of what you're going to do." Scavenger whined.

* * *

After a long day of chasing Decepticon hooligans and their blobbish counterparts, Frankie leaped onto her bed and let out a huge relaxing sigh. Who wouldn't, as she was tired after chasing Scavenger and Bloo towards their destination, which was only a few feet in front of them.

Oh sure, Herriman had a talk about no running around his office (or anywhere in the house) and reprimanded the two troublemakers, but it was Coco and Frankie who felt as though they should get more than a talk, probably because as the two women the Constructicon and his blob friend needed a little more punishment for being so peverted and devilish. So after the two had left his office, Frankie had several friends ambush Scavenger and Bloo.

The two were now tied up inside of Bloo's room, thanks to Coco's steel cables.

Frankie did feel a little bad about tying up Scavenger. Compared to him, Frankie was a mere blip in lifespan, but he almost acted like a kid. His antics rhymed with a grown-up adult who still liked to horse around with kids and dilly-dally. Hell, Long Haul and Hook said that practically anything joyous made him happy. He was a Constructicon, and an expert at building. Maybe she would let him off the hook and make him build something really nice for her.

Mac and Frankie decided to put the kiss behind them and forget all about it. The picture of them 'making out' was burnt, and Scavenger was forced to erase it under Scrapper's orders before he was tied up. Frankie did make a little slip about Mac being an 'okay kisser', which caused both of them to blush like tomatoes. Mac said that was fine. He was only eight, anyway.

Frankie flipped open a copy of _Us _Magazine and began to read.

* * *

Mr. Herriman finished the last assignment to fill out and filed it into his massive freeholder, sighing as the incredible long draft could finally be mailed to the mayor. Placing it inside his desk, he picked up his television from the side of his desk and began to watch _The Loved and the Loveless_. Herriman vowed to watch the remaining two seasons on his own without being interrupted. Fate as it seems would not allow such a feat.

As the characters inside the screen swooned over each other in showering corny love, the doorbell rang.

"Francis! The door!" Mr. Herriman cried out. A few seconds of television noise before the doorbell rang again.

"Miss Frances!" He thundered. Nothing answered.

The doorbell rang again.

"Blasted child, can't even get down two flights of stairs just to open a silly door!" Mr. Herriman growled to himself after shutting off the TV, placing it down next to his desk and stomping to the door. Before opening, he adjusted his bowtie, his monocle and his suit to elict his air of nobleness.

Herriman opened the door, unsurprised to see two humans in front of him. They were both male, one having a spiky hair style and a red jacket with white stripes. He had a large grin on his face, and his blue eyes seemingly glowed from how bright they were. His companion was nearly an exact look-a-like, maybe a twin. He had a yellow jacket with black stripes. He didn't have a grin, only a small scowl. He too had blue eyes.

"Welcome gentlemen." Herriman said. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can." Red jacket said, with a strong Brooklyn accent, "The name's Wesley, and this is Brenda."

-_BRENDA?! That's my name? Are you kidding me?!- _Sunstreaker roared over the Autobot intercom, infuriated that his brother decided to name his holo such a ridiculous name.

_-Relax, Sunny. I know what I'm doing.- _Sideswipe replied cooly while his brother heaved insults. _-Yo Mirage, you got anything?-_

_-Nothing yet, but I'm still scanning. Wherever the Constructicons hid inside that house, they're hiding well.-_

"Welcome, Master Wesley and Miss-I mean Master Brenda, to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends." Herriman widened the door so Wesley (Sideswipe) and Brenda (Sunstreaker) could get inside to adopt a friend.

As the two humans entered the old house, Herriman swore he saw two exotic cars with the same colors as the men's jackets...

* * *

**Sorry for the massive lapse in time for updates. My computer crashed again and I'm now forced to type this at school. Don't expect another chapter for a while, even more so with 'Best Served Cold'. I'm sorry about this.**

**-the Tormentor**


	6. Devastation

Chapter 6: Devastation

While the two humanoid holograms were whisked away to do some adoptive business with Mr. Herriman, there was another event occurring inside the dining hall. On one side of the incredibly long table sat Coco, with several huge mugs of hot cocoa (hence her name) placed near her on the table loincloth. On the opposite side was the Constructicon Long Haul, with large cubes of energon pulsing with edible energy.

Both friend and Decepticon stared each other down like an old Western standoff, both of them stone-still and looked ready for whatever game they were about to play.

Which was a drinking game; first one to pass out loses.

Near Coco was Ed and Wilt, the latter holding a stopwatch. Behind Long Haul was Mixmaster, Bonecrusher and the recently-freed Scavenger, the former rubbing his palms on Long Haul's shoulders. Bonecrusher's scowl looked to be stuck on his face for all eternity, because he wasn't either smiling or staring; just angry all the time. Mixmaster, as usual, had a vicious grin that spoke of assured victory; he knew in his spark that Long Haul would beat the organic. Coco's gaze would say a different story, as she clearly remembered who was the one who trapped her inside the rubber cement. Losing against the dump truck was inconceivable.

"On your mark, get set, _drink!_" Wilt pressed the timer on his hand, starting the countdown.

"Yer goin' down, friend." Long Haul sneered as he chugged down the first cube in front of him. As the last drops of the pink liquid fell into his mouth, he nonchalantly tossed it aside and reached for his second. It shattered into pieces as it hit the ground.

"_-I don't plan on losing to a dump truck-_" Coco shot back at him after downing her first mug of cocoa. There was a dollop of whipped cream on her beak which she licked off with vigor.

Long Haul must have taken it seriously, because he slurped his second energon cube like a madman, the pink liquid spilling all over his mouthplate and tablecloth. Coco eyed him humorously as she slowly drank her second mug of hot cocoa. Her plan had worked; get Long Haul into a fit over losing and get him to drink faster than he should, increasing her chances of winning.

_One hour later..._

Too bad Coco didn't realize how resilient Long Haul was to the lasting effects of drinking so much energon. Even after downing his thirteenth cube, his entire chest and face smothered with dried energon. Scavenger had long left, and Mixmaster was fiddling around with what looked like a hunk of gold. Coco still had Ed and Wilt to watch her.

Long Haul gave the most disgusting belch seconds later. He pointed at Coco, who was calmly drinking her fifth cup.

"Lemme tell you something Cocoa Puff," Long Haul slurred which got Mixmaster's attention, "I hope we become the bestest of bestest buddies -_Hic!_- and we'll drink until we puke." Long Haul belched again, and began to consume his fifteenth high-grade cube.

"-_Maybe you should cut down on the drinking_-" Coco said worriedly, as she eyed Long Haul swaying in his chair. The Constructicon belched again, and then Frankie walked in just to have a front row seat at Long Haul's terrible table manners and was aghast at his rather obnoxious behavior.

"What's he doing?" She gaped, staring at the overcharged mech who had one cube too many.

"Drinking." Mixmaster replied nonchalantly, as if this were a common occurrence . Long Haul reached for his sixteenth cube, but Mixmaster caught his wrist and held it there. Long Haul stared at Mixmaster in disbelief.

"Do you want me -_Hic!_- to lose, Mickey Mouse?!" Long Haul sobbed, and Mixmaster stared at this partner.

"I don't want you to fall into stasis, if that's what you meant." Mixmaster turned to Wilt. "Stop the timer. He's had enough." Wilt complied, but Long Haul didn't.

Long Haul kicked Mixmaster away and dove for his cube. However, since he had a little more energon than he should have, he missed completely and wound up crushing the table under his weight. The table's two sides bent upwards in a flash and sent everything on top of it straight into the air, including Long Haul's energon.

"_NO, MY PRECIOUS!_" Long Haul screamed and activated his thrusters to grab the energon cubeand launched himself skyward.

He missed and wound up smashing himself face-first into the ceiling. Various items rained down in the dining hall, the energon, cocoa and other dishes and silverware scattered or busted on the floor. The energon cube burst open as soon as it hit the ground and splashed all over Frankie. Mixmaster howled with laughter.

And then Long Haul fell right on top of Mixmaster.

"Ay carumba." Ed mumbled.

* * *

"As you can see here Master Wesley, the friend you are referring to as "Scrapper" does indeed live here. He has been for some time, about two weeks or so. He's up for adoption, if you want him." Mr Herriman guided underneath his desk and picked up an adoption form, plus ink and quill. He placed it in front of Brenda and Wesley and waited for the duo's answer.

-_Mirage, we've got intel on Constructicons. Looks like they're hiding in the fourth floor, east wing.- _Sunstreaker radioed to Mirage. The blue and white formula one racer complied and engaged his cloaking field right as he transformed near the garage.

_-Got it. It's gonna be tricky, and get ready for Prime's banter when he hears about collateral damage.- _He replied as he stretched his legs over the old iron fence.

_-Can we get out of here? This place is freaky.- _Sideswipe asked, his avatar avoiding contact with Mr. Herriman.

-_What's the matter 'Wesley'? Afraid of the Easter bunny?_- Sunstreaker sneered over the comlink, still slightly annoyed with being called 'Brenda'.

_-Suck my exhaust pipe 'Brenda'!- _Sideswipe thundered back.

_-Both of you shut up, I've got Scavenger in my line of sights.- _It was true; Mirage found the young Constructicon outside with a boy and a blue blobby thing heading towards what looked like a treehouse. Scavenger had something in his arms. The boy looked excited, but the blob didn't. Mirage lined his sniper with Scavenger's head and waited for the signal from Sideswipe.

_-Do you think they'll get Devastator online? I mean, they're barely a fourth their original size.- _Mirage asked, still eyeing the unsuspecting Constructicon. Both he and his companions had reached the treehouse, and it appears that Scavenger was carrying bottles and a Bunsen burner.

_-If they do, they'll probably be the size of Magnus. But still just as stupid.-_

_-Alright, I'll get Scavenger. You two get the others.-_

* * *

Unknown to the Autobots, their conversation was actually being monitored. Hook stood in front of the audio machine with Bonecrusher and Scrapper. It replayed the final message between Mirage and Sideswipe before Bonecrusher turned it off. Scrapper began to plan. It was going to be difficult; the Autobots had them trapped like rats and the only way out would either be with guns or stasis cuffs.

"We're gonna need to evacuate. The space-bridge is only half complete, so that's out of the question. We can't get Megatron or the others without alerting the other Autobots." Hook said. "If anyone has a plan, let's hear it."

"I say we fight 'em off." Bonecrusher added, which earned him undescriptive looks from his brothers. "We still have Devastator, plus there's only three of 'em."

"We'll be smaller and less powerful, a definite tactical disadvantage. Though this sounds stupid, I agree with Bonecrusher; the only way getting out of here is to fight them." Scrapper concluded and turned to Bonecrusher.

"Get rid of the avatars. Hook and I will get the others." Bonecrusher, for the first time arriving at Fosters, let a grin appear from his mouth. He picked up an energy rifle and a magma pistol and walked out.

"You sure about this Scrapper? Even if we do beat them, we'll probably get more Autobots that'll slither their way here."

"Hook, by the time that happens, Megatron must have taken note."

* * *

Scavenger eased the Bunsen burner underneath the bottle where it was being held and attached the tube to the propane tank. He eased the gas nozzle to a small degree, and upon hearing the escaping _hiss _of the gas he lit a match above the mouth of the burner and the flame appeared. Mac looked excited for something new, but Bloo didn't.

"This is so _boring_." He whined, and Mac rolled his eyes. "Can we do something fun?"

"This _is_ fun. Now quit whining." Scavenger said as the bottle's watery contents began to glow and bubble.

"Looks like it's ready." He stopped the gas nozzle and raised the bottle.

"Who wants the first sip?" He handed the bottle to Mac, who worriedly looked at the pulsing orange stuff inside. He took it from Scavenge's hands and was about to take a gulp before Scavenger said "I have no idea what it'll do though."

Mac stopped instantly in fear of his own life, but not before Bloo shoved the entire thing down the unwilling boy's throat. Scavenger's visor went wide as he watched a snickering Bloo force his potentially lethal experiment down Mac's throat. The bottle was halfway gone when Mac finally regained some control and shoved Bloo away. He coughed up some orange stuff before Scavenger came running up to him and shook him to get some attention

"Are you okay? You feel funny? Strange? Excited?" He asked. The look on Mac's face told he might feel very delirious.

"I-I feel weird..." Mac hazed out...

...before he began to glow a bright white. In fact, his skin appeared to shine with a blinding white light. His very eyes themselves began to glow to a brightness nearly to that of the sun. Scavenger and Bloo shielded their eyes from being burnt out their heads by looking at the glowing boy. Mac took a look at his glowing hands before he began to scream.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" The poor child was distraught over his blinding condition.

"Wow Mac, did you eat a star or something?" Bloo asked while covering his eyes.

"I'LL MAKE YOU EAT MY _FIST!_" Mac thundered and was about to tackle and promptly beat the snot out of Bloo, but not before Scavenger got a hold on the squirming lad. While in Scavenger's hands, Mac began to slow down his swinging fists into a pathetic flailing only to start silently weeping. Mac covered his glowing eyes with his hands as small white tears began to come out. Though he tried to hide it, Scavenger instantly saw the vain attempt.

"Hey hey kid, it's only temporary." Scavenger softly said while holding Mac, and Bloo started to feel a little guilty as well.

"H-How do you know that?" Mac sniffed. "I could be like _this_," He moved his hands up and down to indicate his sun-rivaling body, "For the rest of my life."

"It's not like that's a bad thing, right? I mean, you're just really _really_ bright." Scavenger tried to cheer up the little kid, but it was to no good. Bloo placed a towel around Mac's body as a sign of a simple apology. The light emanating from Mac's body was quelled underneath the blue towel, but his slightly less brighter head was still above.

"Wait here. I'll get something from Hook or Mixmaster." Scavenger said as he gave an assuring pat on the shoulder.

"'Kay." Mac replied. Scavenger turned around for a brief second to get a plausible antidote from his brethren, and then the whole ceiling of the treehouse was torn clean off. Bloo yelped and hid behind Mac, who in turn his behind Scavenger.

For a small amount of time, the Constructicon, the boy and his creation stared into open sky, expecting some sort of attacker to form. And he did. Appearing before their eyes was a robot far larger than Scavenger, but also sleeker. It had two fins on it's shoulders with a blue and white finish, a huge torpedo-shaped cannon on its shoulder and dim yellow eyes.

But the weirdest thing was that the robot had a _red _symbol on it's chest, rather than Scavenger's purple. It's symbol was of a calm face than a horned beast.

"_MIRAGE!_" Scavenger screamed, and drew out his blaster. Mirage easily flicked the gun out of the smaller Constructicon's hand and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. But as soon as his fingers latched onto Scavenger's cables, a blinding light shone out of the demolished treehouse, blinding Mirage and causing him to drop Scavenger.

Bloo, acting quickly to save his friend, had unleashed the brightest human ever created from his cloth prison inside the towel. He yanked with all his stubby might and the consequential torque caused Mac to stumble out bare-back and grand luminosity. Mirage's optics were instantly blinded and was forced to grimace.

"RUN!" Bloo yelled and dove out of the treehouse followed by Scavenger and Mac.

"Little brat!" Mirage thundered, and fired blindly to where he heard the imaginary friend. The explosion tore open the area just in front of the back door, and the trio stopped just in time to avoid being smashed to atoms.

* * *

The explosion outside rumbled through the grand house as Frankie and Mixmaster were trying to wake up an unconscious Long Haul. Mixmaster's optics widened as he came to a startling realization.

"Autobots." He whispered to himself.

"What?" Frankie asked, but was unanswered just as two men came into the dining hall. One had a yellow vest and black pants while the other had a red and white jacket. Something about them set Frankie and Mixmaster on edge, and their smiles only lessened their approval.

"Hello there Mixmaster. I'm Wesley, and I'm here to adopt you." The man in white and red said.

Mixmaster scowled.

"C'mon, just grab him and let's go." The man in yellow whined while rolling his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't like being here.

Then man named Wesley walked up to Mixmaster and tugged on his arm. Mixmaster held back the need to cram his acid dispensers into Wesley's face. The young man just sent every vibe of wrong through his body, and Frankie felt the same way.

"Hey wait a minute, you can't just waltz in here and adopt someone. There's something called _paperwork_, y'know." She explained to Wesley as she tried placing herself between the man and her Constructicon friend.

"We can adopt whatever we want in here, isn't that your policy?" The other man smirked, and Frankie bit the need to pummel his face in.

"Yes, but we-"

"_Good._ Then we want-"

The man in yellow never got to explain himself fully as Bonecrusher's fist tore through his chest like a sledgehammer on a watermelon. But instead of blood and bone, pixels and light flowed from his mortal injury as he slowly disintegrated into small white particles that vanished midair. Frankie and Wesley numbly stood in shock as Bonecrusher removed his fist from the "man". Wesley opened his mouth to either scream something at Bonecrusher, but wound up receiving a magma pistol straight to the head, which vaporized everything torso-up. Wesley also shrank into white little pixels as he died, and soon there was nothing left of the two men.

"How-? What-?" Frankie sputtered.

Bonecrusher walked up to Mixmaster and began to explain. "There's Autobots here. Take this and meet me and Hook at the back door. Scavenger's in trouble. Scrapper will assist the girl in waking up the slagging drunkard over there."

Mixmaster nodded and loaded the energy rifle. Frankie had a worried look on her face.

"You guys will hold them off, right?"

Bonecrusher snorted. "As if a difference in size will stop us."

* * *

"Argh! HN! _Let go! _I'm not some toy!" Scavenger, Bloo and Mac squirmed in Mirage's double handed grasp, each trying to worm their way out. Scavenger was trying to get Mirage to stop holding them so tightly.

"You sure as scrap look like one." Mirage smugly said, and Scavenger glared at him while Mac and Bloo talked amongst themselves.

"You still have more of Scavvy's potion?" Bloo asked.

"No, you made me drink all of it, _remember?_" He bitterly replied, the tip of Mirage's thumb resting on his head.

A sound rang out as Mirage yelped in pain. The patter-patter of bullets ringing on the Autobot's armor let Scavenger realized that he was being rescued. Doing the best he can to hold onto Mac and Bloo, he activated his thrusters and took flight when Mirage's grip on their bodies met it's lowest. Climbing up into the air, he saw two more Autobots rush in to stop the two Constructicons who have began to rescue him.

Sunstreaker dove for Mixmaster while Sideswipe copied his movements onto Bonecrusher. The two Contructicons doved before being caught and the front-liners collided into each other.

"Autodolts." Mixmaster smirked and raised his energy rifle at Sideswipe's face, but not before Mirage could do anything. He plucked Mixamster up from shooting Sideswipe by the barrel on his back. A huge explosion erupted on Mirage's chest, sending the spy sailing backwards and dropping Mixmaster. All eyes turned to he ceiling where Long Haul stood with a dis-proportionally large cannon on his shoulder.

"Get wrecked."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker snarled and ran to Mirage, where he tried to stand up despite having his legs blown clean off. Sunstreaker changed his hands to six-barreled cannons while Sideswipe reconfigured his hands into wicked-looking drills.

Hook and Scrapper walked outside calmly, and Long Haul landed soundly next them with his thrusters. The other Constructicons met up with them as the group stared down at the two Autobots. Scavenger let Mac and Bloo free from his arms.

"Get far from here. It's gonna get ugly."

"_Constructicons, phase one!_" Scrapper ordered as he transformed into a bizzare looking tower with Mixmaster alongside him. The towers were parallel to each other with Mixmaster's grill and Scrapper's shovel jutted out from the bottom.

'_Those aren't towers...' _Mac thought.

_'...those are legs.'_

"Now, _phase two!_" The remaining Constructicons began to shift and combine with their own bodies. Bonecrusher and Scavenger formed into arms, purple fists at the end of their new forms. Hook and Long Haul combined at form a huge torso with Hook on top and Long Haul for the crotch. The body parts slammed into the large body and a blurring movement.

"Combine into..."

When all the parts had finally linked, a massive being stood in it's place. More than thirty feet tall and more robust than the Autobots, it sure looked like a force to be reckoned with. The head came rising out of the body, jet black with two large vents on the side and a thick angry visor. The huge being mouth opened, and roared a single word.

"_**DEVASTATOR!**_"


End file.
